


as brave as brave can be

by jb_mar



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Just a pointless drabble, Not Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 12:10:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13834014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jb_mar/pseuds/jb_mar
Summary: Molly misses his family at the circus, that much is true, but his new family isn't half badJust taking the zombie gnoll fight and elaborated on it, I know Nott and Molly going out got me so terrified, and then I started thinking about Molly's trip to the bar after, and this happened and it just had made me so proud!I sort of reimagined the battle a little and embellished it a little, for entertainment's sake! Hope you like it





	as brave as brave can be

By no means was Molly invincible. Sure, he walked around with a confident swagger, a skip in his step that screamed to the world “Hey world, just fucking try to mess with me!”, but that’s because he knew if he didn’t someone actually would. Molly wasn’t much of a brawler by any means either. That was Yasha’s job, to kick ass and take names. Molly’s weapon of choice was his dazzling smile, his quick wits, and occasionally when words failed, his flashy blades.  
Molly had been in a few scuffles before, but nothing quite like he was getting involved in now. Little scrapes, he could handle. Drunken ruffians causing a commotion in the crowd of the circus? Sure. Asshole humans calling him those awful names, devil, demon, worthless? That wasn’t a problem. Zombie gnolls committing arson, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake? Yeah, that one gave him a bit of trouble.  
The sweat was pooling on Molly’s forehead, glancing around wildly. The flames were hot and high, smoke obscuring his vision. He grit his teeth, frustrated as he tried to catch his breath. Where the fuck had everybody gone? He’d seen Beau and Nott dash off into a nearby building moments ago, but now all he could see was the burning of roofs, lives turning to rubble and embers. Molly stiffened as to his right, he heard a low growling noise, mixed with a distorted gurgle. About facing, the tiefling was met with the glowing yellow eyes of a canine monster. It towered over him, teeth the size of daggers gnashing at him as the beast lunged forward. Quick as lightning, Molly ducked out of the way. The gnoll glided past him, whirling around on a dime to face it’s flashy prey. It was then Molly noticed the unnatural angle the monster’s head was sitting on. The creature’s neck was contorted and mangled, two bones sticking out the side. It’s head dangled lower with every step, as if it was no longer connected to the spine of the beast, and it’s jaws opened and closed with a strange click sound as the joint slid in and out of the socket. Molly grimaced, pulling his blades and dragging both across the back of his neck. The cuts were small, only surface deep, but they would do for what he intended. Eyes flashing as he took a moment to harness his infernal heritage, he bared his own teeth, a grin stretching across his face. Leaping towards the beast, the tiefling hissed, blades twirling like a tornado around him.  
The first swing collided with the greasy hide of the canine, causing it to back up further, whimpering as the blade cut through it’s decaying flesh. The second went just over the monster’s head as it made eye contact with it’s attacker, somehow their primal hearts connecting and giving it enough of an understanding of the situation at hand that it ducked down, avoiding the swipe entirely. Frustrated, Molly’s red pupiless eyes hardened, and he took a running leap, yelling out in a language that was incomprehensible, the sound of snakes rolling off his tongue. “You will burn at the feet of the Dragon Queen in the deepest pit of the Hells!” as his sword sunk into the neck of the gnoll, severing it entirely. The body fell to the ground with an unceremonious thud, the squelching of gross old meat hitting the ground snapping Molly out of his trance.  
Looking down at his victory, his attention was drawn suddenly to his blades. The dazzling sword on his right seemed somehow brighter out of the corner of his eyes, but at first Molly had assumed it was just the light of the flames refracting off the shiny surface of the sword. Now that he finally had a second to steady himself, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that wasn’t the case. Glowing… The sword wasn’t reflecting anything, it was glowing. A dull light bathed the blade in gold, rippling through the instrument as Mollymauk turned it over and back, looking the thing over. This was new… Molly ran his hand along the sharp side of the blade, about to cut into his fleshy palm, mesmerized and horrified simultaneously by this mysterious occurrence. A frantic shout of a familiar half-orc stopped him from doing so, looking up suddenly as he heard is name shouted through the commotion. “Molly!”  
There stood Fjord, his blue glowing sword jutting out from his own palm, the hilt embedded into his green skin. The smell of sea water hit Molly in the face as he approached, and instinctively the tiefling rushed over to him, meeting him half way and pressing his back to Fjord’s, his swords presentational in front. Fjord took a similar stance. The man’s face hardened as he scanned the flames. Molly could tell he was searching for Beau and Jester in the mess. The three of them had been a group before hand, and it was obvious in a way that Fjord felt a bit more responsibility for them than he did for the rest of them. The same went of Caleb and Nott, as the wizard treated his little shadow like his own child, toting her and coddling her. That just left Molly. Not that he minded, of course. These people barely knew him, accidentally got wrapped into his issues, he wouldn’t expect them to warm up to him quickly, just as he didn’t entirely trust the band of bumbling adventurers. However, here he was, protecting the vitals of a man he barely knew. Fjord turned over his shoulder a little, his eyes catching the glint of Molly’s sword. “Molly, what the hell?” He asked, nearly breaking away to get a look at the weapon, but Molly’s tail wrapped around his waist, keeping him in their protective formation.  
“Now is really not the best time to explain!” Molly scolded, as suddenly another gnoll jumped out from the smoke at the pair of sitting ducks.  
Fjord struck the beast down in nearly one chop, a surprised shout escaping him as the thing growled in his face, the shaft of his weapon stuck between it’s ribs. Molly finished it off with a flourish, blood collecting on the blade as he sliced the monster’s throat. Good… At least he knew he could count on the half orc for a good, strong swing and a cool head in battle. “There’s way too many of them!” Molly commented, glancing around the town from building to building.  
People were screaming, a sound similar to the chaos at the carnival. Molly’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched gnolls climb in and out of windows, emerging with severed limbs, cured meats, anything they could get between their jaws. “We’ve got to get these people out of here…” Fjord growled under his breath, looking out over the mass of monsters, when suddenly a single sound broke through the air.  
One long, drawn out tone sounded over the terrorized vocals of a town decimated. The howl sounded and suddenly all the gnolls perked up, their ears twitching in recognition. Molly’s eyes widened as they began to howl back, one by one, turning tail and heading towards the sound. “They’re retreating…” Molly muttered, exchanging a confused look with the half orc as canine rushed past them, their fur standing on end as a few of them snarled at the pair, only to keep moving.  
Molly followed the path of the monsters, watching them rush towards a beaten down walkway leading away from town. Looking to Fjord, he pursed his lips, unsure whether to follow or let them go. From this far a distance, he couldn’t see who the gnolls were rushing towards, but if these were the foot soldiers, he could only imagine what kind of a creature was waiting at the top of the hill, some blood thirsty beast with fangs the size of his arm. As much as Molly would have loved to rush forward and deal with the thing, he didn’t quite fancy dying that day. Just as he had begun to slide his swords back into their sheaths, he could have sworn he spotted a flash of green in his peripherals. His head whipped in that direction and there he spotted another one of his companions. Little Nott was a wily girl, her crossbow drawn as she jumped down from the second story window. Before Molly had the chance to call out to her, the goblin was gone. Molly watched as Nott’s feet moved her fast in the direction of the howl, her little chest heaving as she did. Molly’s smile of relief dropped, and instantly he was moving as well, eyes baring into her back. “Nott! No!” He yelled, telling her to stop.  
Nott was a small, fragile thing. Why she thought she’d be able to take these gnolls all on her own, the tiefling had no clue, but he wasn’t about to let her get torn asunder. Caleb would kill him if he did. As Molly took off, Fjord turned, no longer feeling the lithe body at his back, but Molly was already halfway gone, frantic as he tried to stay on Nott’s heels. He felt a presence at his side and he turned slightly to see Beauregard beside him. She was tired, he could tell, with blood and ash smeared across her skin like a mural, but her eyes were fixed on the tiny goblin shape running ahead of them. Molly took a second to acknowledge her, giving her a little nod before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Breaking the edge of the town, Nott stopped at the foot of the hill, Molly and Beau about ten feet behind her. Molly would have rushed forwards and grabbed the little goblin girl by the scruff of the neck if he could have, but he found his feet glued to the ground as he looked up at the figure on the top of the hill. This was the gnoll he had been worried about. Two times the size of the others, his size alone was enough to make anyone retreat. He was clad in piecemeal armor, his breastplate splattered in gore. His fur was coated in it too, matted together by coagulated blood from the folks of Alfield. His claws were the size of Molly’s head, rising up and reaching for a giant glave on his back, his eyes honed in on the tiny goblin before him. Nott stood frozen. Molly could see her little legs shaking in terror as the giant towered over her, getting ready to cleave her in twain. As he took a few more steps forward protectively, Beau tried to reach out and stop him, but he shouldered her off. Molly’s tail twitched, yelling “Nott!”, hoping to distract the giant thing before him.  
The creature diverted it’s attention from the easy little snack in front of him, turning to eye up the purple tiefling. It snorted in annoyance, eyes darting from Molly, to Nott, back to Molly again, and slowly putting the glave back into its sheath on its back. Molly puffed up his chest, trying to look more intimidating than he was. He couldn’t believe his luck. As the gnoll turned its back to the group, Molly could hear the footfall of Jester, Caleb and Fjord behind him, and he put his hand out as a sign. Tread with caution. Suddenly, the creature whipped back around, a crooked smirk stretching across its face, almost human like. At first, Molly didn’t see the bow in its grip. He was too focused on Nott’s limp form hitting the ground like a ragdoll, an arrow embedded in her chest. He heard a gasp from Caleb behind him, and that was enough to send Molly charging forward towards the beast, the glow from his swords ten times brighter as he yelled in anger.  
Then, everything turned black. Molly opened his eyes to endless void. He blinked a few times, reaching up to rub his eyes. He felt weightless, which was an odd feeling when one is used to being pulled down by layers of colorful robes and emotional baggage. Looking down, he knew his body was there, he could feel it, yet somehow there was nothing. Nothing but eternal blackness traveling downwards. Molly tried to breathe, frantically looking around for something, anything. Was this death? Molly had been down for the count a few times before, but it had never been like this. Before, it had been like a dream. This was like a nightmare. Was this how he died, a stupid impulse decision for a girl he barely knew? As much as he didn’t want that to be so, he wouldn’t be too surprised if that was it. As his mind swam in murky, muddled thoughts, suddenly before him was a giant, porcelain mask. The face was white as snow, the painted eyes dull and blank, the cherry red lips not moving, even as the voice crept into his head. “My child…” The voice echoed like thunder in his cranium, somehow both booming and soft at the same time.  
Molly felt terror welling up in his throat, ready to cry out, but the voice chuckled, stopping him. “Do not be afraid, dear one. Your trail does not end here. I’m not ready to collect you yet. The show must go on, after all. We’ve barely started act one.” The voice seemed cheery almost, playful as she put it into terms Molly gladly appreciated, though didn’t understand the significance of.  
Molly felt a strong tug on his arm, and suddenly the darkness faded around him. His eyes shot open, sitting up with a loud intake of air, greatful to feel it fill his lungs, only to nearly hack up what he just took in due to the immense amount of ash. His vision cleared slowly, and before him sat Jester, just moving her hand back from his wrist. There in her lap, sat Nott, her ears pressed against the side of her head, ashamed, breathing heavily as well and refusing to even make eye contact with the lavender tiefling. “What were you thinking!?” Molly’s gaze was fixed on Nott, hard, eyebrows furrowed.  
“I was just going to follow them from afar! I forgot they had bows and arrows!” The little goblin voice squeaked, half defensive, half apologetic.  
“That’s literally the only thing that’s been happening!” Molly watched the tiny figure for a second as she wiped a little tears away from her eye.  
“I thought they wouldn’t see me because of the shadows…” She admitted, trying to hold back tears.  
Instantly, Molly regretted raising his voice. He surged forward, taking Nott into his arms, giving her a relieved hug. The goblin tensed for a second before hesitantly hugging back, her whole body shaking. Molly could hear her little gasps in his ear as she cried into the crook of his neck, and he held on tighter, picking her up as he slowly and carefully stood, gritting his teeth. Jester was at his side in a second, hand out, obviously not comfortable with the injured man trying to stand, let alone hold a little girl, but he breathed out, shaking his head, focused on the task at hand. “We need to put out these fires…”

 

Later that night, Molly found himself alone once more. The fires had been quenched, the gnoll ears collected, and most of the party had settled down to rest for the evening. Nott had passed out in Molly’s arms halfway through the recovery of the town due to the sheer excitement, if that’s what one could call dying. The tiefling had handed her off to the scruffy man, who thanked him with a silent nod of the head. There was something about the human wizard that just seemed off to him, or maybe it was just the shock of nearly losing the girl he considered his daughter. Either way, Molly felt for the guy. It couldn’t have been easy to watch his companion get mowed down, helpless to do anything. Molly almost wondered if that’s how Toya felt as they decapitated the devil toad that practically raised her. Molly felt sick again.  
He was sitting at the bar now, a glass of something strong in his hand. The place wasn’t great and the liquer he had before had tasted like piss, but the stuff he had now wasn’t half bad, and he could get himself drunk on it if he really tried. His hands were shaking, his stare a hundred miles long, similar to the one other patron at the bar, an older man with blood spattered on his clothes. He was a rural type, looked as though he should have never gotten caught up in something like this, but managed to. How relatable.  
Just as Molly started to chug the drink in front of him, he felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder. Turning to face the person it belonged to, his gaze settled upon Fjord. The half orc awkwardly shuffled his feet, nodding to the empty chair next to him. “May I?”  
Molly looked at it for a second before kicking the stool, spinning it so that the chair was facing Fjord. “Be my guest. The more the merrier I always say.”  
Fjord took a seat next to him. They spent a few minutes in awkward silence, Molly polishing off what he had in front of him and ordering another round for both Fjord and himself. Fjord looked that the stuff, approvingly before beginning to nurse the substance. “So...” Fjord started, seemingly unsure of how to start a conversation.  
“So.” Molly repeated, not looking up from the cup.  
Fjord pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck. “Those are some pretty cool swords you got there. Didn’t know they could glow like that.”  
Molly scoffed. “Yeah. Join the club.” His tone was oddly bitter for the subject matter. He couldn’t get his heart to stop palpitating.  
Fjord leaned against the bar, elbows up on the counter. “I’d really like to take a closer look at them, you know?”  
Molly turned his head, raising an eyebrow. He knew what Fjord was trying to do. Changing the subject wasn’t going to help Molly forget that he had died for the third time in the past few days. Molly flashed the man a sarcastic smile, his tail swishing like a whip. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” He said flirtatiously before dropping the false tone in his voice once more and going back to downing his drink, trying to forget.  
Fjord was silent for a moment before sighing. “Look, Mollymauk. You did good today. Really good. I’ll be honest, I was impressed.”  
“Many people are”  
“Stop, I’m being serious. Listen to me. If you hadn’t been there, Nott might have ended up worse off than she did. You did the right thing back there.”  
Molly’s eyes were on the floor now, stone faced.  
Fjord continued. “I know we're not really that close. Hell, none of us are yet. But what you did back there? I admire that. You were ready to take on that whole army of gnolls for a girl you met a week ago.”  
Molly raised an eyebrow at the comment. He sat back in his chair, running his fingers along the top of the glass. His eyes met Fjord’s and for a second he could see something venerable behind them before it was covered up with the half orc clearing his throat. Odd… For a second, he could have seen Fjord as actually caring for a second there, almost mistake that gaze as something of concern, or care, of comradery. Molly’s hand raised to rub the back of his neck, nonchalauntly. “Well, you would have done the same if it were me.”  
The words were out of his mouth, more of a question than a statement. Fjord nodded, a little smile creeping onto his face before Molly tried to cover for himself. “Plus, you know, Caleb would have had my ass if anything happened to her and I didn’t stop it. The guy might smell like absolute ass, but… You know, that’s pretty much all I’ve got.”  
Fjord chuckled at that, beginning to stand. “You coming up?” He motioned towards the stairs leading up to the one little room they would all be sharing for the evening.  
Molly propped his feet up on the bar. “Did you hear what I just said? Caleb smells like ass, I’m not heading to bed until I absolutely have to, you all can have fun snoring away on that shit.” He said dryly, stiff as a board.  
Fjord shrugged, beginning to walk away. Molly knew Fjord could tell he just wanted to be alone for the moment, and he appreciated him not pushing the issue any further. Just as he heard the half orc hit the stairs, the man turned back once more. “Oh, and Molly?”  
Molly slowly turned his chair to face the man, looking at him expectantly.  
“You’re not as weird as you keep saying. You’re actually pretty charming. We all think so, and we’re glad you’re travelling with us.”  
Molly scoffed, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “Careful what you say there, friend. Don’t go taking away my whole schtick. Being weird is my thing. Take that away and I might have to leave.” He teased.  
“Fine,” Fjord teased, “Then you’re the single weirdest person I know. Just don’t leave us, alright? We’d miss your charm.”  
Molly waved as Fjord nodded good night to him and just like that he was gone, disappearing into the hall around the corner, leaving Molly to himself. The tiefling smiled softly to himself for a moment. His hand moved to his heart, nonchalauntly with a small laugh. He felt like he was with the circus again suddenly, happy, accepted, free. Maybe this group wouldn’t be so unlike his old one after all...


End file.
